


Through A Mirror, Darkly

by TearoomSaloon



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alternate Reality, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Force Bond (Star Wars), I CAN SHOW YOU THE WAYS OF THE FORCE, More likely than not, Slow Burn, early meeting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-17
Updated: 2017-08-17
Packaged: 2018-12-16 10:25:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11826795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TearoomSaloon/pseuds/TearoomSaloon
Summary: She accepted his invitation of mentorship, though she wasn't quite sure who he was, or what she'd be learning. If her parents weren't coming back, she wanted to get off this rock and never return to Jakku.





	Through A Mirror, Darkly

**Author's Note:**

> "Through a glass, darkly," is a line out of 1 Corinthians 13:12 and for the uninitiated, it refers to seeing an image dimly, or not being able to clearly see the picture. Perceptions of reality can be skewed, and even those paying attention can be led astray.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Fool is the protagonist, off on the Hero's Journey full of innocence and naiveté. What lies ahead is the unknown, as frightful or as magnificent as it may be.

She carried a staff on her back, grime on her hands, dust in her hair. Her smile was bright with the light of the world wide open before her. Maybe she was traveling, maybe she just wandered on her own accord, her feet knowing the way better than he head ever could. There was something magical about her optimism in such a stifling place. Though she was quiet, kept to herself, she never ceased to spark interest from others.

Alone in this land of desert and open, wide sky, she was limitless.

“You don’t know what’s in store for you, do you?”

The man who asked was brown-cloaked, something unseen out under the harsh sun. His voice wasn’t cruel, but neither was it welcoming. He tilted his head and inclined his attention to her, his face hidden in the deep shadows of his cowl.

She stopped in her path, scraps piled on the sheet metal at her feet. “Excuse me?”

“You will be so important to this galaxy.”

Before she could ask his meaning, his image disappeared with the swirling sand. A mirage? Or a heat dream? She scrambled down the dunes, pushing the vision from her mind. She hid the memory in her head, pushed it back down with the images of her parents, of her life before the yellow sand and wicked nights.

It resurfaced only when she was approached again, this time by a man in black robes—even more uncommon. She had no idea what to make of these premonitions, these tricks of light under the grueling sun.

“You need to go, girl. Chase your destiny, start your journey.”

“I don’t have a destiny. I’m waiting for someone.”

“And if they never come?”

Her grip on her staff tightened, unwilling to be mocked.

“The future lies on your shoulders alone.”

She hated hearing these lines, these insults from her conscious. Was her own mind not sacred, or would she keep getting intruders for the remainder of her days? She remembered hearing similar words when she’d first been dropped off onto the sands, but years had passed since she’d last had visitors. It was high time she grew out of imaginary friends and figments of her daydreams.

The last dark cloak she received was not an illusion. He was flesh, red blood pouring out of a wound on his side. He looked unruly and angry, like an animal in a cage. He hissed and spit loudly when she’d first approached, crushing the breath from her lungs with his raised palm.

“I’m trying to help!” she howled, clawing the air over her neck.

“Who are you? Who sent you?” His voice was ragged, blood caught in his throat.

“No one!” He dropped her from his invisible hold. “I’m Rey,” she said with a horrific cough. “I’m just tying to do the right thing.”

“You’re not looking to kill me and steal my ship?”

“No.” She felt a prickle in her mind, as though someone were rifling through her thoughts. “What are you doing?”

He didn’t answer, instead glaring down at the wound under his ribs. “I need to get out of this sun.”

“I live close—can you walk?”

He stood and it was an effort. He snarled like a beast when she made to support his weight on her shoulders. Whoever this man was, he did not take help easily. Seated at her makeshift table, he let his eyes wander across her dwelling. “You don't expect anything for this?”

“Not unless you’re offering.”

"You’re too quick to trust, girl.”

“Do not mistake kindness for trust,” she warned, offering her meager stash of medical supplies.

“I don’t need those, but thank you.” He hacked up a lung, his breathing turning to wheezing. “Kriff. Can you cut the robes around the wound?”

She did as he asked, careful not to injure him further. She made one slip and he bellowed like a monster, again gripping her neck with his unseen force.

“What are you playing at?” he spit, teeth bared.

“My hand slipped.” Her fingers were slick with his ruby blood. “Please.”

He released her, reluctant but trapped, out of options. Lost. When she finished, he pressed an ungloved hand right into his torn flesh, hissing when the skin and muscle fibers began to knit themselves back together into a neat white line. Once it sealed, he dug his stained hand up his clothing to his sternum, draining the blood leaking into his lungs.

The man collapsed against the tabletop panting, pallor clinging like a sickness to his alabaster skin. She brought him what little water he had and he drank it all. That felt like an insult; she’d brought him out of the hot sun into her home, had offered her help and whatever care she could muster—

“There’s more on my ship,” he said with a voice lacking lucidity. “I’m too weak to go myself.”

Her eyes widened, unsettled. “How did you…?”

“You watched me knit flesh without raising an eyebrow but you’re aghast I read your thoughts?” He chuckled and it turned into another ghastly cough. “There’s a thermos by my cot and food in the galley.”

She hurried out into the heat, needing to retrieve the aforementioned thanks before the sun began to set. Nights in the desert were harsh, cold, and full of violence. She tended not to venture out once the stars began to rise, incidences in her childhood prominent enough to sink fear down into her marrow, to spark alertness in her senses and anger in her bones. She made haste across the scorched dunes, back to the looming black ship whose wing was crumpled into dust.

He’d told her to call a command into the air when she approached and present the field around the craft with an identification card from his person. Precautions were taken for his safety, he’d said. He knew no part of it would be scavenged, since the ship would defend itself. The blaster aiming at her feet was proof enough.

The inside of his craft was more luxury than she’d seen in a decade. It was alive much the same way as she, electronics pulsing and blinking on the console. She stared at the cockpit for a few minutes too long, her fingers itching to touch the control board. She’d never flown before, but after hours of simulations, she wanted wings. She wanted to breathe as she soared through the sky. A thought of her parents touched her mind and she shrank away, knowing the taste of the air was not for her, not yet. Her guest would recover, would fix his ship, and vanish on the horizon.

His small sleeping quarters were rather bare save for a few person effects—a holonovel about a young man in a crime-ridden underworld, a picture of a young woman whose hair was twisted into intricate braids, and a vial of a dark, almost translucent liquid. She gathered up the blankets on the cot along with the thermos before investigating the tiny galley. It would be colder than her nightmares in a bare number of hours, and she hadn’t enough to keep warm an extra guest.

There were so many rations she almost burst into tears taking them all in. Foods she’d never heard of, languages she’d never seen, her stomach rumbled at the thought. It had been so long since she last ate…

 She only grabbed a handful, not wanting to overstep his generosity. Any man whose ship was programmed to obliterate intruders was not someone she wanted to upset or offend. Perhaps he’d give her one or two more before he left, that would be a good enough payment in her eyes.

She found him slumped in her hammock when she returned just before the dusk bled into nightfall. He looked worse, sweat beading on his forehead, his whole body shivering. She laid more blankets on him, worried about his state, how volatile his condition could be.

“I’ll be fine,” he said softly. “I’m just weak—it’s been years since I used the Force to heal myself.”

Her nose scrunched. “The Force? I thought that was a myth.”

“It’s very alive, girl. I can feel it in you, in the sands, in every living thing. It courses in your veins, though. More than I’ve felt in another in a long time.”

She wasn’t sure how to respond. She felt…uncomfortable. He was prying into her head, traipsing around in her memories. A smile stretched across his lips when she frowned, trying to shut him out.

“I’m not going to hurt you. I’m curious about you, about your desires. I wanted to make sure you didn’t have plans to murder me in my sleep.”

“I wouldn’t—“

“No, I know you wouldn’t, I saw that you have no ill intentions.” His smile faded. “I am so sorry about your family.”

“What? What do you know?”

“We can talk about it later when I have strength. Is it always so cold here?”

No, she wanted to talk about it now. A pit was forming in her stomach, anxiety and dread worming their way through her nervous system. “Once the sun sets,” she said instead, holding her tongue to her stream of questions.

“Where do you intend to sleep?”

 "On the floor. Or perhaps I won’t now that you’ve put seeds in my head.”

“I’m sorry…would we be able to share the hammock?”

“I alone barely fit.” She shook her head. “You know, you never told me your name.”

He was quiet, as though debating what to tell her. “Kylo. You snooped through my things and didn’t learn my name?”

“I wasn’t really looking.”

“You’ve got a clear mental picture of my mother, but you didn’t find my name?”

“That’s your _mother?_ ” She was expecting a wife, or a sweetheart. Who keeps a portrait of their mother next to their bed?

“It reminds me that I’m disappointing her day after day,” he said with a small laugh.

“And the black vial?”

“It’s for sleep. A calm night tends to elude me—speaking of, we might as well switch off resting, as I won’t be able to sleep tonight.”

“What do you mean a calm night?”

He sized her up, his dark eyes glazed with exhaustion.

“I’m a stranger, it doesn’t matter what you tell me,” she said quietly.

“Nightmares,” he admitted. “It keeps the nightmares at bay.”

“I get them, too.” She sat at the table’s only chair, drawing her knees to her chest. “I’ve always had them, since I was a girl.”

“You know, I never thought I’d find I had anything in common with a desert scavenger.”

“Nor I…erm.” What was he?

“I’m a knight.”

Her eyebrows knit together. “Right.”

“I thought I’d be dead out on the sand, if I’m truthful. I couldn’t believe everything I’ve worked towards would have been lost with one bad turn.”

“Did something bring you here?”

He nodded. “The Battle of Jakku. I have questions I want answers to, but I’m afraid this wasteland doesn’t hold much for me.”

“Will you be able to repair your ship?”

“It’s just cosmetic damage and some minor engine repairs, I should be out of here in a matter of days. Don’t worry, I’ll feed you in exchange for any help you can give me.”

           

It was demanding work, fixing his ship. She looted a nearby crash site for parts to help. He was a wizard with his hands, wrenches and a torch bending expertly to his will. She knew she was going to feel a pang of loss when he finally departed. So much time had passed since she’d last met another agreeable person. She wasn't sure how much time would elapse before she met another.

“What happened to my parents?” she asked as she hung off a thick cable, drilling metal back onto the damaged wing.

He pulled off his dark mask. It was cracked, but he was using it to shield his eyes from the flame of his heat gun. “I saw their demise through the Force. I don’t…I don’t think it’s possible for them to come back for you.”

The fear that had settled in her chest years before puberty reared. “They’re gone?”

“I’m sorry, Rey.”

She was, too.

It took exactly a week to get his ship into working order. Some of it was dented, but it would fly, the hyperdrive intact and undamaged. During the rebuild, he offered her scraps of himself, little bits of information about what he was looking for, why, and what he was hoped to achieve. She never quite got the feeling that he was telling the whole truth, but there was no harm in pretending.

“You could come with me,” he said after he finished running his engine checks. “The Force…it moves through you, Rey. I can teach you to understand it, how to shape it within yourself.”

“I can’t.”

“What’s stopping you? A hope lost to dreams? What is there left here for you?”

She bit her lip, uncomfortable with the questions. Fear gripped her with the thought of leaving, but if what he said about her parents were true, then he was right. What _was_ stopping her? “Can I gather some things?”

He smiled and it reached his eyes. Something sinister lay behind the expression, however, and a shiver jolted up her spine. “Be quick, I want to get out of here before the sun sets.”

She raced back to her makeshift home, scrambling to pack what little she had before flying over the sands. He chuckled when she returned red-faced and out of breath.

“I wasn’t going to leave without you,” he said as she followed him inside. Sitting in the co-pilot’s seat, she watched him as he brought the ship fully online, the gangway clanking shut as the engines boomed. “Are you excited to touch the stars again?”

She nodded, eyes glued to the viewport. “Unbearably.”


End file.
